Chapter 6 - The Trap Closes
Sloane blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. "What... what are you talking about?"
Evelyn gestured to the large projection screen behind the stage. Dominic’s tech team immediately took control of the display system.
The screen illuminated, showing high-definition digital macro-scans of the garments Sloane had showcased in San Diego, side-by-side with original pages from Evelyn’s clothbound notebook dated three years earlier.
"Every garment I have ever designed," Evelyn explained to the captivated audience of investors and reporters, "contains a unique, inverted cross-stitch along the interior lining—a signature technique passed down from my mother. On page twenty-two of my original notebook, stamped and notarized in Ohio four years ago, that stitch pattern is legally trademarked under my name."
Evelyn zoomed in on the high-res images of Sloane's showcased jackets. Clear as day, the microscopic inverted cross-stitches were visible along the inner seams.
"Sloane Whitmore didn't design those clothes," Evelyn declared softly. "She didn't even know how the seams were constructed. She simply took my finished prototypes, cut off my name tags, and slapped her own label over the top."
Murmurs of shock and outrage swept through the crowd. Investors began pulling out their phones, taking photos of the screen. Journalists were frantically scribbling in their notebooks.
"And as for Adrian Mercer," Dominic’s voice cut through the chaos like a scythe, "his fraud goes far deeper than intellectual theft."
Dominic signaled his assistant, who handed a thick stack of legal documents directly to the Mayor and the federal prosecutor sitting in the VIP section.
"Those documents detail four years of illegal offshore money laundering," Dominic announced calmly. "Adrian Mercer used Mercer Renewal as a dummy corporation to channel unregistered funds through the Port of San Diego into Caribbean shell accounts. All of it signed off by his CEO authority."
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Adrian's knees gave out. He stumbled backward into a waiter's tray, collapse-falling onto a velvet couch, his face completely drained of color. "Evelyn... please... we were married... we can talk about this!"
Evelyn looked down at him with cool, detached disgust. "Our marriage ended the moment you ordered the cameras erased while I lay bleeding at the bottom of your stairs."
